A Beautiful Lie
by GHOST oo007
Summary: When Clint finds himself addicted to morphine after a brutal torture session, he can't seem to overcome it. Hiding his problem from everyone, Clint continues to use in secret. But what happens when Steve finds out? / Post movie, Engaged!Steve and Clint. Based off a current rp between myself and kid-from-brooklyn on tumblr. M for sexual content, language, and drug usage.
1. Chapter 1

It had been nearly three months. Three months since Clint had been rescued from that awful place. He had suffered several wounds, most to his mind, but they were healing slowly yet surely. Fury had allowed Clint to stay with Steve, knowing that was one form of therapy that would work better than anything else. And it had; only there was one thing Clint hadn't mentioned during recovery. The use of morphine during his interrogation had kept him alive and alert after he received beatings and such, and now, he had become highly addicted to it. It was used during his recovery as well, and before he left to come home, Clint had managed to swipe a good bit of the drug from SHIELD. The need for it was too powerful for him to fight, so he hid it from everyone, including Steve, and fed the urge only when he was in seclusion.

Sighing in content, Clint leaned against Steve as they watched some reality show on tv. His cuts and stabs were closing up, becoming more scars to add to his body, and his bruises had faded. The archer reached over, swiping a handful of popcorn from the bowl as he narrowed his eyes at the tv.

"I swear, half the shit they air now makes no sense..." He muttered, tossing some of the popcorn into his mouth.

"We didn't even have reality shows back in my day." Steve chuckled softly under his breath as he picked up the remote, flipping through the tv guide.

"Then again, I didn't have a television to begin with." Steve couldn't begin to thank his lucky stars. Every mission the archer took was sure to give the spangled man a heart attack. Though he bit his tongue, only wishing for Clint's safe return. He was strong but at the mere sight of his fiancé beaten, battered and bruised was enough to make him crumble. Even now he had a hard time allowing Clint out of his sight, becoming increasingly overprotective of the agent.

"We should go out sometime." Steve suggested, finally coming to stop on the Discovery channel. At least a show about sharks was more entertaining than women screaming and pulling each other's hair out over a guy. "When you're feeling better, of course." Steve smiled a touch, pressing a kiss to Clint's forehead before settling back into the couch.

"I'm feeling fine, I've been feeling fine for days now." Clint replied, although he knew Steve probably didn't believe him. He had been in bad shape when he was rescued, and although he was doing much better, Steve had been watching him like a hawk. Not that Clint minded, the attention was enjoyable, especially when it was Steve. "I do feel the need to go somewhere, maybe we can go out for dinner tomorrow." He said, thinking of several different nice restaurants already.

It was then he felt a tingling that started in his arms, one that seemed to make his stomach clench. The popcorn suddenly was extremely unappetizing and Clint closed his eyes a moment, reaching up to rub at his forehead.

"It would do you some good to get out and about. Can't stay here forever." Even if Steve was being protective of the archer, he would have to ease up sooner or later. That and he enjoyed spoiling Clint, dinner, a few beers and a relaxing night home. Sounded like the perfect way to spend the evening. He stretched a moment, raising his hands above his head letting out a groan, though his attention was soon fixed upon his fiancé.

"You alright Clint?" Pursing his lips in question as he moved the bowl of popcorn to the coffee table. "If you've got a headache I'll get you some aspirin."

"No, I'll get it." Clint said quickly, already used to the early symptoms of withdrawal. "Getting up and moving around will probably help too." Without waiting for an answer he got up from the couch and headed to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

"Alright." Steve watched as Clint made his way from the living room and slipped into the bathroom. Though he never remembered him having to close the door in order to take aspirin. He shook the thought from his head as took up the bowl of popcorn once more and made his way into the kitchen. Placing the dish on the counter top he reached for the fridge opening it and retrieving a water bottle.

Clint leaned against the sink for a moment, everything spinning around him and making his stomach churn. Exhaling heavily, the archer reached under the sink, withdrawing a small box he had tucked away out of sight. Moving quickly and quietly, Clint opened it, revealing an assortment of needles and small glass containers full of liquid. He slid off his shirt, making it easier to get to the top of the vein protruding from his left arm. He was injecting the needle into his upper bicep, that way the bruised skin was hard to spot. Steve had neglected him sex, for fear of hurting him, and although Clint wasn't exactly happy with that, at least he didn't have to worry about his arm being seen. He prepped the needle, his hands shaking as he lined it up and slid it into his vein. There was a rush as the morphine entered his system, instantly calming his nerves and giving him that high his body craved.

"What're you thinking about for dinner tonight?" Steve called out from the kitchen as he made his way back to the couch, plopping onto the cushion as he waited for Clint.

Clint closed the box and placed it back in his hiding spot. He leaned heavily against the sink again, taking deep breaths as the drug did its work. He heard Steve call to him and lifted his head, rubbing at his eyes before he grabbed his shirt and pulled it back over his head. He opened the door to the bathroom and walked back over to the couch, plopping down beside Steve and sighing. "It's up to you, I'll have anything you're in the mood for." He said cheerfully, easily keeping his voice from sounding slurred thanks to much practice.

Steve took note to how quickly the archer demeanor had changed, though he was none the less glad. It was hard enough seeing the one he loved in so much pain, suffering and not being able to do a damn thing.

"It's up to me, huh?" With that in mind he carelessly tossed the water bottle over his shoulder as he moved for Clint. Knocking the man back into the couch cushion, his hands grasping hold of his broad shoulders in order to pin him down. "Think you're on the menu tonight." Grinning he leaned down, kissing along Clint's neckline.

Clint blinked in surprise when he was suddenly forced back on the couch, a small gasp leaving him as the room spun more than it should have. He gave a small chuckle, not quite thinking about the marks on his bicep as he reached up and wrapped his arms around Steve.

"Well in that case, get ready to lick the plate clean." Clint smirked as he pressed up against Steve's hard body, moving his head to the side to allow full access to his neck as he slid his hands up his fiancé's shirt, pulling the clothing up to expose his back.

"I'm gonna do a lot more than that." Steve mumbled against the archer's skin.

"Really now?" Clint growled as slid his hand up to tangle his fingers in Steve's hair.

It was funny, how Clint had managed to rub off on him; bringing out a much more playful, devious side of him, especially when it came to foreplay. Steve released his hands from Clint's shoulders, hands wasting little time and coming to tug at the hem of his shirt, fingers curling into the fabric and without warning, the captain tore the shirt open, leaving his fiancé's toned chest exposed. "I've always wanted to do that." The blond lifted his head up, licking his lower lip as if he were about to devour the other.

Clint's body suddenly jerking as his shirt was ripped open. He was breathless a moment, the action making everything more intense and _fuck_ he was definitely turned on now. He pulled the ruined shirt from his body and threw it on the ground, leaning up to attack Steve's lips with his own, his tongue sliding into the man's mouth and claiming dominance. Clint was pushing against Steve now, his arms grasping the man's hips, only little did he know, his bicep was in full view now, as was the dark black bruise growing on his arm.


	2. Chapter 2

Clint's reaction was more than enough let Steve know how turned on he was. With ease he canted his head, deepening the kiss. His hands were already steadily at work on the man's pants. Belt coming loose, button undone, zipper down and a palm pressing firmly against Clint's erection. Clint groaned, moving his hips into Steve's hand as he felt his blood shoot south.

It wasn't until Steve's hues began to roam the archer's body that he took notice in the bruise. The captain turned his head aside, forcing to break the kiss as he raised a hand, ghosting his fingertips along the darkened area of the skin. "Clint...is this new?" He couldn't recall seeing any bruises on his body, only the gashes that were finally transitioning into scars.

Clint gasped, chasing Steve's lips when he moved away, but then froze at the words, his arm tensing when his fiancé gently ran his fingers over the tender area. Clint immediately pulled his arm away, twisting it and placing his hand behind him to hold himself up while keeping the bruise out of view.

"Uh, yeah, probably just banged it on something when I wasn't paying attention." He said quickly, mentally kicking himself for being so careless. Hopefully it would just be forgotten and ignored. There were puncture marks along the vein, and the last thing he needed was Steve getting a good look at that. "Now where were we?" He smirked.

"Clint." Steve furrowed his brow in question, his voice stern. Why had he been so defensive, so quick to pull away? How had Steve not seen the bruise before? Come to think of it, Clint had been rather careful in order to hide the mark. "You're not careless like that. I know you."

Steve suddenly halted his assault, as if his body were shutting down. Retracting his hand from Clint's pants he pulled away, moving to sit himself upwards, though still straddling his fiancé. "Is there something you're not telling me? Someone do this to you?" Motioning towards the hidden arm.

Clint's eyes darkened, his expression falling into a frown that tugged at his lips. His stomach seemed to clench with fear and worry, and his heart rate picked up as his mind tried to formulate a lie. "I said it was nothing Steve." He said a bit more forcefully than he meant to. "No one did anything to me, it's just a damn bruise."

Steve was taken back at the tone given; he was simply concerned with his health, nothing more. Then it hit him, something was wrong...there was more to the story then Clint was allowing to give, but he let it go.

Clint sighed and turned his head to the side, suddenly just wanting to escape the situation, and more importantly, get a shirt back over his body. "Look, I'm getting tired anyway…let's just go to bed." He said in an empty voice, waiting for Steve to get off him as he kept his arm hidden behind his back.

"Fine." Steve was short in his reply, placing his hand on the back of the couch in order to push himself up. If anything he'd let the archer sleep on it, come to him when he was ready to talk. When it came to his fiancé he wasn't a fighter, always taking a step back, knowing that it wasn't exactly Clint's nature to open up so easily. Without another word, or even so much of a glance he made his way back towards the bedroom.

Clint slowly sat up, watching Steve walk off without another word. The archer sighed heavily, bringing his hands up to run his fingers through his hair as he swallowed down the lump in his throat. At least it was over, and he wouldn't have to deal with it anymore. He dropped his arms at his side and stared down at the floor before looking over at his arm, noting the dark coloration on his skin with distinct puncture marks along his vein. He felt sick looking at it and quickly averted his attention to something else. Clint felt guilty, yes, but this was something Steve could never know about. He wasn't exactly proud of it. The archer got up and buttoned his jeans before making his way to the bedroom.

Keeping his back turned to Steve, Clint dug out some sweatpants and quickly changed out of his jeans before crawling into the bed and turning out his light. He lay on his side, facing away from Steve as he kept both of his arms under the blankets.

Steve sat quietly on his side of the bed, studying his phone, going through text messages. He heard Clint enter the room, but he as well hadn't said a single thing. Strange, how silence could hurt so much, more than any words ever spoken.

As the light went out, the blond placed his phone on the nightstand, crawling into bed and pulling the blankets over himself. For a moment he stared up at the ceiling, questioning himself and his actions. Perhaps even bringing up the bruise wasn't such a terrific idea. Then again, Clint hadn't even bothered to say good night...or even and I love you. It stung, felt like a knife had been driven into his ribs.


End file.
